Goblin-town
by Syrene-T
Summary: What if Gandalf had taken a longer time to come to the company's rescue, when this one struggled between the claws of goblins ?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note****:** **This fic was posted in French under the title of _Gobelin-Ville_.**

**In the movie, I found the story of the goblins going so fast as though it was only passing that I wondered what the point was. Nevertheless, there was some potential, so it was time to make the dramatic tension rise. Well then it may have gone farther than what I had first planned.**

**I am not bilingual, and by far: I used an electronic translator and also the talents and the time of my beta-reader, TITVAN, whom I thank infinitely. Good reading. (Oh and while we are there : save some information which I picked on the Internet, I based myself on the movies ; I prefer to warn you.)**

**Disclaimer : Only the text belongs to me, the characters and the world in which they evolve belong to Tolkien and especially, in this case, to Peter Jackson.**

**oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo**

In the bloody light of the torches which was reflected on every metallic part and made its sharp points glow and cast threatening shadows on the wooden parts and the ropes, the machine looked like a huddled up living creature, waiting for its preys.

Its sinister aspect was even more strengthened by the obscene bustle of the goblins who wiggled around it in a parody of dance, giggling and bellowing each more than the next. Thorïn was split between horror – and Durïn knew that he was not afraid for himself but for the members of his company – and pride. He knew well enough his companions to guess that just like him they felt the cold of the fear deep in their guts and that an ice-cold sweat must be wetting their skin.

But none of them wavered.

They stood up straight holding their head high and contempt in their eyes. One could only guess the tension building up within them from their tensed jaws. Here, more than ever, in the depths of this hostile and stinking cave, Thorïn, son of Thraïn, the heir to the throne of Erebor, felt incredibly proud of his troop. He would have wanted to hold each one of them in his arms and tell them that he was aware of their merit. He almost felt like a father to every one of his brave companions, even those who were older than him. This being so, one would have been very clever to guess his feelings at this very moment for with his gritted teeth, his clenched fists and his eyes flashing fury, he rather gave the impression of harbouring particularly murderous thoughts! In fact, he restlessly was looking for a way to pull his company out of this hornet's nest, but it unfortunately looked like a deadlock.

However, the goblin king's clashing bawling suddenly stopped and the monster ceased to wriggle on the spot and wave his arms. He abruptly turned around to face the captives with a savage glint in his small reptilian eye.

The company did not flinch, but everyone quivered inwardly.

- It's time to show you – he giggled and executed a caper – the way goblins prepare the dwarves, he exulted.

At once, terrifying thoughts ran through Thorïn's mind. Oh yes, he would gladly have shown this enormous pustular swelling what the dwarves, masters of fire and metal, were capable of ! Unfortunately, none of them really was in a position to turn the situation around...

- Bring me the youngest one, the goblin continued pointing his huge podgy finger towards Ori.

Poor Ori turned pale but still did not flinch. As one man – or as one dwarf – his companions surrounded him, shielded him and rose up against the goblins with their fists clenched and a metallic gleam in their eyes. The goblins seemed to find their reaction quite funny, judging by their sniggers and the way they started to hop up and down. This demonstration of delight, however, did not prevent them from getting out their hobnailed whips and sticks to wholeheartedly strike the group thus formed. The dwarves flinched and grumbled, raising their arms in front of their faces to protect themselves, but none of them stepped back. The goblins increased their blows. The lashes whistled and cracked, gashing the flesh and ripping the clothes ; the clubs whacked, with more restraint however, for the monsters obviously did not wish to damage their prisoners too much yet. This would deprive them of the rest of the show. Despite everything, Oïn suddenly fell on his knees, his eyebrow split, his head buzzing and blood running down his face.

Seeing that their captives stood firm and refused to move away, the goblins rushed forward to seize them, pull them and push them. The company resisted, kicking and punching. Unfortunately, they were too few and too small at the same time to face their opponents, and without their weapons they could not hope to do any harm to them.

- Bind their hands and make them keep still ! the goblin king shouted his head off. We are not going to waste our time with this nasty vermin !

- Nasty vermin yourself ! somebody hissed.

In this general melee and this surrounding racket, it was impossible to know who had spoken.

The pushed, pulled and beaten up dwarves willy-nilly were taken away from one another. Their hands were roughly tied behind their backs, and the ropes were so tight that their fingers quickly became numb. Then they were thrown down on their knees on the stony ground, a goblin stood behind every one of them holding them firmly, one by the hair, one by the collar and the others by the shoulders, so as to force them to remain quiet. Taking advantage of this, two goblins seized Ori and literally dragged him towards their king.

- Let go of him ! Kili roared.

He struggled so violently under the grip of his guard that he felt his shoulder crack and dislocate itself. The pain tore a muffled cry from his throat, but he quickly suppressed it as the goblin standing behind him thrust his dirty hand in his hair and shook him unceremoniously, growling :

- Shut up, will you ?!

For a moment, the young dwarf thought that his vertebras too were going to break away from one another. He bit his lip until it bled to contain the pain and not scream again. Several of his companions tried in vain to stand up to help him.

Completely unable to do anything else, Thorïn shot his nephew's assailant such an angry look that the monster was impressed in spite of himself. He looked hurriedly away, grumbling vague threats under his breath; and for a moment he stopped abusing Kili.

For their part, Nori and Dori struggled so furiously in the vain hope to help their younger brother that the goblins lost patience : Nori fell to the ground, glassy-eyed and nearly unconscious after a bludgeon hit him on the side of his head. His ear was nearly split in two and bled abundantly. His scalp even was slashed despite the thickness of his messy mane of hair. Dori was yielding too – the goblins were competing to master him in the most brutal way and his resistance was diminishing. In a last effort, a desperate momentum, he got free of the bustle and called out to the goblin king, his voice wheezy from all the pain :

- Leave him alone ! Take me in his place !

It was as generous as it was brave but unfortunately the goblins lack the sense of honour and are therefore as indifferent to it as they are to the noblest of feelings. It amused them greatly however, and so they burst out laughing in all sorts of ways. Some were laughing so hard that they were holding their stomach, doubling up with laughter and striking the ground with their calloused hands as if they had never ever heard anything so funny.

- So you care that much for him, eh ? the goblin king said delightfully, resuming his sinister pantomime. Who is he ? Your son ? Veeery well, in this case… in this case you will have a special place! Put him in the front row !

- As a first demonstration, he started again grandiloquently, which would have been ridiculous if the circumstances had not been so grave. We are going to show you how the crusher of bones works !

In the middle of this renewed concert of giggles, the poor Ori was seized, lifted and carried up to the second machine ; and in the blink of an eye he was nearly quartered, tied up in an off-putting assembly of pulleys and thick pieces of wood fastened to his limbs.

- Stop it ! Thorïn thundered with a voice so strong that it covered the surrounding noise.

At the same time, with a superhuman effort, he succeeded in escaping the grip of his guard and stood up. He was not able to do better, however, because the aforementioned guard struck him on the nape of his neck with the handle of his whip. The dwarfish prince staggered.

- Do not damage him ! the king barked.

The hatred which goblins feel for the sword named Orcrist and all those who carry it oozed from each of his words. He sent a grimace to the prisoner who struggled under the grip of two of his worshippers

- You seem quite impatient to have your turn, Thorïn, son of Thraïn, he mocked. But it's such a pity that you'll have to remain a spectator up to the end : I wouldn't want to damage you, you have too much value. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until Azog the Defiler stakes the claims that he says he has upon you.

He punctuated his sentence with a snigger and conspicuously turned his back on Thorïn pretending to be interested only in Ori.

- Go ahead, he said. Make him sing !

The captive dwarves growled, once again trying to escape the grip of their persecutors, ineffectively. However, the monsters flitted around the machine upon which the poor Ori stoically gazed into the unfathomable heights of the cave with fixed eyes. Ropes were tightened and pulleys grated. And slowly, inexorably, the pieces of wood which had been fastened to the dwarf's limbs tightened like a vice.

Ori gritted his teeth.

The goblins continued to bustle about and the planks kept on tightening, millimetre after millimetre, but in a continuous movement which was as inescapable as fate itself.

Ori closed his eyes.

The goblins regrettably are experts in the making of this kind of machines. The discomfort began to change into pain and the young dwarf did not know what could stop it before his limbs were totally crushed by the pressure which was regularly, constantly increasing.

In the front row, as the king had asked, two goblins each maintained one of Dori's arms and judging by the way he was struggling between his two guards, he strongly risked to dislocate his shoulders too.

- Filthy monsters ! he roared. Cowards ! He's still a child !

It was false of course, except for Dori himself who would undoubtedly keep on seeing his younger brother as a kid throughout his entire life.

- Shut up ! one of his guards spat, giving him a punch on the temple, which stunned him.

Little by little, blood began to well up from crushed flesh and Ori's clothes were tinged with red. The torture victim had tried not to shout but his groans were now changing into broken complaints. His immobilized body tried in vain to squirm its way out of these multiple merciless grips which broke it slowly and, between two more suppressed exclamations, Ori gasped with suffering.

The dwarves' bones are thick, solid and hard. They are not easily broken. However there is no doubt that they would eventually give way under the pressure, which was still increasing.

- Thorïn ! Ori called with a voice deformed by the pain, and not really aware of what he was saying. Thorïn, help me ! Please !

If anybody could make it, was it not him ? The hero of the wandering people of Erebor, victor of Azog the Defiler and so many other enemies, and a guide for his people to whom he had been able to return their honour and their dignity, not to mention a place where they could settle…

Of course, if it had been in Thorïn's power to intervene, it would not have been necessary to beg him to do it ! And it was not as if he hadn't tried, as he was blinded by fury and revolted by the show. His guard had downright pushed his right foot in his back to make him hold still, forcing him to bend down to the ground and trying to keep him there.

But, furious, Thorïn continued to struggle like a maniac. The goblin felt himself weakening but did not dare to ask for help : recognizing that he was incapable of controlling a dwarf who had his hands tied and was being almost flattened on the ground would have been plainly humiliating !

The company however agreed with their guide : rendered furious by the torture of one of theirs, encouraged by the resistance of Thorïn and, besides, extremely furious of seeing the one that they admired treated with so little consideration, their faces crushed against the stony ground, the dwarves were about to lose their self-control. Even Kili, with his dislocated shoulder, which formed a strange cavity, and his bloody mouth, fought wildly. The goblin king, who was watching his prisoners from the corner of his eye, got this. And he understood at the same time that the troop was about to go "berserk". Others would say "amok" : it is a particular state but the dwarf people are particularly sensitive to it when they are pushed over the edge. It is the raving madness which leads you to forget everything, which reduces your fear, even the most basic caution, to nothingness and increases your strength tenfold. For there is a reason why we say "maniacs". A troop so numerous sinking all at once into such a killing frenzy would leave but a single alternative to their victors : to massacre them on the spot. Yet, this solution hardly pleased the king because he wanted to prolong the pleasure.

Intelligence is not the strong point of goblins : he thought that in order to quiet the dwarves he had to strike a new blow.

- Do not be so impatient, he told them with a false friendliness, his eye sparkling with bad gloating (and a hint of worry). Your turn will come. But before that we shall give you another demonstration of the way the shredder works.

He quickly scanned the group and he added with what might be a smile, at least for a member of his species :

- After the youngest one, the oldest one !

Thorïn heard that and had the impression that the blood in his veins had turned into a river of ice. At first, it seemed that the threat had made its effect upon him, because he did not move anymore and his guard, deep down greatly relieved, began chuckling and exulting. It did not last though : gathering all his strengths, the prince abruptly unwound his folded legs. He did not feel the uneven ground tearing his skin from his knees to his ankles. He did not care that he was flat on his stomach ; he kicked the goblin in the shins with a strength increased tenfold by his fury. The monster let out a terrible cry and immediately staggered, bending over at the same time to try to massage his painful bones which now barely supported his weight. Thorïn did not waste time feeling sorry for his fate : with a huge effort, he picked himself up on his knees and from there he was able to stand up without much difficulty despite having his hands tied in his back. On this point, he threw his foot in the air and hit the goblin, who was still bending over massaging his painful legs, square in the jaw.

All around him, his companions had all acted a bit like him ; each in his own way and as best one can : Bombur had managed to turn around and sink his teeth into his guard's thigh. The guard let out high-pitched howls and tried to get rid of his opponent : he had hit the dwarf on the head several times but although blood was running down his face and was almost blinding him, nothing seemed to make him loosen up his vice-like ferocious bite. Then, supporting himself with his weight on the ground, Bombur succeeded in knocking down his opponent and began to stand back up… the better to pounce on him aiming at his stomach. The goblin thought that his entrails were going to spring from his mouth and uttered a rather impressive kind of wheezing – he was, in the literal sense of the word, truly nauseated.

For a moment, it was complete chaos and one would have thought that the dwarves were going to achieve the impossible. Ori's torturers had abandoned him to rush to their companions' help ; the orcs guarding the captives did not know which side to take – some did not move and continued to hold their prisoners, others tried to control the dwarves who had succeeded in releasing themselves. But in doing so, those whom they were not watching anymore got back on their feet too and charged into the fight. Their hands were tied ? Whatever ! They used their feet, their teeth and their shoulders or even – Dwalïn introduced the technique and was immediately imitated – charged head first into their opponents' stomach. Their small size and their exceptionally hard skulls gave a great effectiveness to this operation and a certain number of monsters were lying on the ground, arms crossed on their abdomen. On top of all that, the king of the goblins was stamping his feet on his throne and letting out deafening clamours, waving his arms in every direction and flinging orders which nobody understood in the surrounding racket.

The match however was too uneven, both because of the number of the goblins and the disadvantage for the company to have their hands tied. At one point, Thorïn felt, or believed he felt a strangely soft hand touching his wrist. He instinctively reacted and, without even turning around, shouldered it aside with all his weight and so freed himself instantly. He thought he heard an exclamation of pain but when he turned his head around, he saw nothing. Nothing more than the fray, of course. Several dwarves had been taken again ; some were even lying on the ground, knocked out, when a curious thing happened : it seemed a wave of madness had overwhelmed the goblins, who were shouting, jumping on the spot or on the contrary collapsing to the ground, without any reason to explain their attitude. It took the dwarves a few moments before they realised that their black blood was well and truly flowing, from wounds apparently made by a sharp blade. What did this miracle mean ?

Terrified by this phenomenon that they could not understand, the monsters moved back away from their captives whom they regarded suspiciously.

- What are you doing ?! their king shouted. Seize them ! Cut their throat ! It has lasted long enough !

The goblins danced on the spot like one step forward, one step behind, not knowing how to act anymore. The most fearless of them advanced up front, but the dwarves welcomed them tooth and nail again ! In the confusion which followed once more, Thorïn heard a familiar voice whisper in his ear, and he almost gaped in bewilderment :

- Don't move this time, I am going to cut your bonds.

- Mister Baggins ?!

He turned his head around but saw nothing. However, at the same time he was pushed aside and he thought that the hobbit, if it really was him, must have sneaked in between the fighters.

- Don't move, the voice insisted one second later.

Thorïn did not imagine how his "burglar" could suddenly have been there and did not consider him capable of it either, but he well and truly felt the cold touch of a blade against his wrists and one moment later his cut off bonds fell on the ground. With a glance he realised that Ori was free too : all the ropes tightening the pieces of wood had been cut. Hope galvanized the prince's strengths and he rushed headlong into the fight once more. One after the other, the dwarves were free to move again. Although it was a good thing that their hands had been tied _in their backs_ or they would have thought that a ghost was visiting them : indeed, there was no trace of their liberator... However, in the confusion of the battle which started up again with renewed vigour, nobody noticed it. Or at least, they did not have the time to think over it.

- Kill them ! Kill them ! the goblin king roared, jumping on the spot.

- There are too many of them ! Fili panted. We'll never make it through.

- Rather die fighting than serve as toys for them ! Thorïn scolded, his muscles stiffened.

At this moment a deafening explosion was heard and there was a flash of blinding light. All the belligerents were thrown on the ground in a mess of intertwined limbs. After so much noise and fury, the deep silence which follows the apocalypse took place. A solitary figure stood out against the half-light, a silhouette wearing a big sharp hat and holding a stick in his left hand and a sword in the right.

- Seize your weapons and fight ! a commanding and marvellously familiar voice ordered.

There was a wavering moment. They all needed a little time to come to their senses.

- Fight ! Gandalf roared, annoyed.

This time, the dwarves jumped to their feet – those who could, at least – they picked up their companions who were hurt or unconscious and the group absorbed them, drowning them in its centre to protect them. Then they rushed to their weapons, to the enemy and towards the freedom.

**oooooooooooooooooooo**

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

Invisible, Bilbo had followed Gollum in the tunnels for some time. Then the creature had suddenly turned around, ceaselessly groaning and complaining. The hobbit had soon understood why : the clamours had meant that the goblins were close by. They had come back to the inhabited parts of the caves. Sick with fear but reassured by his fortuitous invisibility (or at least he thought it so) the improvised adventurer had continued on his way, always hoping above all else to find an exit. Besides, he had been quite worried for his companions but he had not seen how he could hope to find them in the maze of this vast underground kingdom. There he was, thinking about all this when, coming out on a ledge, he caught sight of the company a hundred meters away from him in the centre of an incredible jumble of shaky footbridges. They were prisoners and things seemed to go rather badly for them, although from this distance he could not grasp the entirety of the situation.

Bilbo hesitated.

He was afraid of approaching.

In this swarming mass of goblins, he was nearly sure that somebody was eventually going to bump into him and notice his presence. Nevertheless, did he really have a choice ? Could he try to run away and abandon the company ? This company who did not accept him within them anyway and most of whom despised him !

Resigned, the hobbit shrugged : no matter how much he tried to convince himself, to find reasons to run, he simply could not abandon the dwarves to their unenviable fate. He could even less since he remembered that all, without exception, had agreed to surrender to save him from an atrocious death when the trolls had captured him. His ring represented an unhoped-for chance; he should not hesitate longer.

While he was deciding which footbridge to take and how to slip close to his companions in the most slowly way possible, things had grown worse. Fearing to be crushed in the confused fray which took place before his eyes, Bilbo spotted the crusher of bones, momentarily abandoned, and felt a burst of revolt when he saw the half crushed unfortunate Ori. So he deftly sneaked towards him and freed him. Then he felt sick. It certainly was not in the Shire that you could witness a torture session or see its results and, when Bilbo slowly pulled Ori out of the now harmless jaws of the device, he had to let him just for one moment to go and puke a few feet away from him. The bloody clothes and the crushed flesh almost made him faint. He had to make a great effort of will to return to the young dwarf and finish releasing him. Luckily, Ori, as for him, had fainted for good as a result of all the pain and so, he was not aware of anything.

With that, Bilbo assessed the situation around him. Things hardly looked bright, one could not say otherwise. He noticed the dwarves' weapons abandoned on the ground within easy reach, provided that they could use their hands. He had to cut the captives' bonds. However the invisible hobbit had to deploy a wealth of imagination to sneak in between the fighters. He slipped on all fours between the legs of a goblin who was maintaining Bofur on the ground and cut Bofur's bonds… before pushing his sword into the guard's foot. The orc let out a terrible howl and jumped in the air, and Bilbo passed onto the following one. He pricked, cut, stabbed his enemies, freeing a dwarf every time he could but, when he approached Thorïn and grabbed his wrist to cut the ropes which were numbing his fingers, the dwarfish prince violently hit him right in the face with his shoulder and Bilbo saw stars for several minutes. You would think that he had recognized him and thus showed him the little consideration he felt for him :

- Mind your own business, Mister Baggins, Thorïn would probably have said. I do not need your help !

With that, the company's weakening resistance led the prince away from Bilbo who, a little stunned by the shock, carried on with his operation nevertheless.

When he had the opportunity to approach Thorïn again, he preferred to guard himself against all eventualities and opened his mouth for the first time :

- Do not move this time, I am going to cut your bonds.

He also learnt this day that the invisibility does not solve all the problems : for, despite everything, he knew that if Gandalf had not so conveniently showed up, he never would have been able to set his companions free all by himself.

And they had not won yet.

It had been a harsh chase through the caves, all the while carrying those who could not walk anymore. They had had to fight hard. One thousand times Bilbo had feared the worst. One thousand times he had been afraid of losing the group. He brandished his short sword of which the blue blade cast a thousand small flames. He was sure he had managed to hurt several goblins but, naturally, his awkward blows could not compare with those of seasoned warriors... Finally, Bilbo had thought that they were all going all to crash at the bottom of an apparently bottomless crack, he had closed his eyes waiting for the shock and his mind hurriedly escaped towards his dear Shire and his comfortable abode… It was said, however, that his hour had not come yet !

OOoOO

So, when the Company, after a new frantic flight, finally came out on the light of day, safety guarantee, they hurtled down the side of the mountain without further delay, eager to put as much distance as possible between them and these caves in which they had almost disappeared forever.

While running, Thorïn glanced at Bilbo (the latter had had the presence of mind to remove his ring during the chase in the fear that he would be lost or forgotten: it was best, he thought, if the dwarves could see him). The dwarfish prince had to admit he was surprised. He never would have believed that the hobbit would have had the necessary capacities and especially the guts to come to their help. He also noticed his swelled cheekbone and the enormous bruise forming on his face. True, he could have gotten this bruise at any time in the fight, but Thorïn suddenly remembered he had hit somebody with his shoulder without knowing who it was, and he had the feeling that Bilbo owed this bruise to him.

When they estimated that they were at a sufficient distance from the caves, the dwarves stopped, out of breath, and assessed the situation. Several of them were hurt, Ori was in a serious state and they had lost all their belongings in the adventure. They only had their weapons left. Still, Thorïn considered himself happy to have been able to take the map and the key that his father once handed to Gandalf away from their enemies' eager hooks.

While Bilbo and most of the dwarves, exhausted, collapsed on the ground, the magician, as for him, not allowing himself to take a moment's rest, began to take care of the wounded. There was not a single member of the company who did not get hit ; all the faces were swollen, but some of the dwarves were in a more critical state than the others.

Bombur, Oïn and Nori had a wounded head and the dried blood had made them a terrifying mask. Kili still had a shoulder lower than the other one and his able hand held his wounded, unmoving arm in place against his side. His lips had split and the blood smeared his chin, his neck and stained the front of his clothes. Sat on a rock, his eyes dull, he kept his head lowered and said nothing.

Fili approached him, with a worried look on his face :

- Kili, are you ok ?

The young dwarf vaguely nodded, without even raising his eyes. A few feet away from there, Gandalf stood up after having done some magic tricks over Nori. The latter's eyes had recovered their lucidity ; he had let out a few growls, which the wizard had interrupted ordering him to remain quiet for a moment.

- You are out of danger, he told him. Now you must recover.

He quickly scanned the group, and approached Kili who was still motionless. Putting his stick on the ground, he delicately felt the wounded limb and made a face. Quickly, he took off one of his grey and frayed fingerless glove and handed it to the young dwarf :

- Bite into this, he simply told him. It will hurt.

Taking place behind the wounded Kili, slightly on his side, he concentrated a brief moment and then, with a snap, put the dislocated joint back in its place. The blood seemed to disappear from the patient's face under the pain, and he gritted his teeth so much that he could have broken them on the magician's fingerless glove.

- It's over, Gandalf said, in a soothing voice.

The evening fell and those who were still fit to think wondered with concern if, under cover of the night, the goblins were not going to come out of their caves and rush to their pursuit.

However, they did not have to worry about it for a long time : mysteriously alerted, they all suddenly turned their eyes to the surrounding heights to discover an important troop of orcs mounted on their wargs.

It was like going from the frying pan into the fire !

**oooo**

**And the movie can resume its course from here.**

**oooo**

**THE END**

_**You wonder maybe why I did not speak again any more Ori at the end. Well, in fact it is because that would have complicated a lot things. Naturally, Gandalf is going to do his best for him, but that could not be far well. And as the dwarfs get ready for a pursuit race with wargs, etc., etc., I did not too much know how to tell the way they are going to have to manage with Ori. I thus preferred not to speak about it about the whole, but do not worry you : Ori will be looked after by the elfs of Mirkwood, even if they do not love the dwarfs !**_

**00000**

**I know, it is a little bit short. Be indulgent, it was my first one fic on **_**The hobbit**_**. An other one is in the course of review at Titvan, longer and enriched.**

3


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